NEWS: Table of the Elements + End of an Ear by Table of the Elements

News: We're pleased to announce that Austin's lauded End of an Ear is the exclusive retailer for titles from the Table of the Elements archive. As of this writing, they're stocking sealed, out-of-print material by artists including Oren Ambarchi, John Cale, Rhys Chatham, Tony Conrad, Jonathan Kane, Stephen O'Malley, Jon Mueller, Neptune, Zeena Parkins, Melissa St. Pierre, Lee Ranaldo and more. Owner Dan Plunkett has been a stalwart supporter of the label since its early '90s inception, and End of an Ear is a world-class shop with an impeccably assembled collection of vinyl, cassettes and CDs, as well as an astounding selection of vintage stereo gear. Whether you're a local Austinite or a visitor for SxSW, swing by and support brick-and-mortar durability and discerning commitment. Cheers!

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"So drink the long draught, Dan, for the Hip Priest" by Jeff Hunt

He's not appreciated.
He's not appreciated.
He's not appreciated.

Drink the long draught, Dan,
for the Hip Priest.

I said drink the long draught, Dan,
for the Hip Priest!

He's not appreciated
He's not appreciated

White collar hits motorway services
It's the Hip Priest
From the eyes he can see, they know
It's the Hip Priest

He's not appreciated.
It's purple psychology.
Not just an old lady's.

That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
And he's gonna make an appearance.
He's gonna make an appearance.

Was shown in a freakshow early on.
And drunk from small brown bottles since I was so long.
'Cause I'm a Hip Priest

'Cause I'm a Hip Priest
People only need me when they're down and gone to seed.
'Cause I'm a Hip Priest.
'Cause I'm a Hip Priest.

It's appreciation half won.
And they hate their allegiance to hip preacher one.
Hip Priest

I got my last clean dirty shirt outta the wardrobe
I got my last clean dirty shirt outta the wardrobe
And all the good people know

That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
All the young groups know
All the young groups know
They can't ever take advantage because I'm a Hip Priest.
I was as clean as a packet of chocolate chips.

That's hip hip hip hip hit hit hit Hip Priest
And if the good people knew they would say
He's not appreciated
He's not appreciated

So drink the long draught, Dan,
For the Hip Priest

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Silver Ball (Light and Color, Mostly) by Table of the Elements

"Kelley is an avatar of the power and humanity inherent in recognizing the radical impurity of human experience. His art searches out dark and soiled places where defects, fault lines and inadequacies are obvious and routine, and where failure takes on the poignant, fragile, even heartbreaking beauty that accompanies any loss of self."
 Christopher Knight, Los Angeles Times
 
"In a three-decade career, cut off abruptly by his suicide, at 57, last year, Kelley did it all, in terms of genre: performance, painting, drawing, printmaking, sculpture, video, installation, sound art and writing. And he wove together — twisted together — all of that into what amounted to a single conceptual project based on recurrent themes: social class, popular culture, black humor, anti-formalist rigor and, though rarely acknowledged, a moral sense, unshakably skeptical, that ran through everything like a spine."
Holland Carter, New York Times

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The Music Is Free, But You Have to Pay for the Plastic, Paper, Ink, Glue and Stamps by Jeff Hunt

"The Los Angeles Free Music Society didn’t just fly beneath the cultural radar in the 1970s: It roared beneath it, as low to the ground as it could possibly get, screaming and shrieking like a nitro-swilling, flame-belching, drag-racing funny car. And maybe that bit of era-specific, Southern California imagery is apt. These guys weren’t like other collectives in 1973, spouting polemics or Jesus Freakin’ and living off the land. They were running amok through the concrete fields of Los Angeles, just plain Freakin’...."

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Jesus was a Capricorn by Jeff Hunt

"Who was the first hippie, exactly? An argument can be made that the whole peace-and-love vibe traces back to the nineteenth century and Romanticism. Faced with the tumult of the Industrial Revolution (the inevitable end result of the Age of Enlightenment), artists, musicians, and authors began dreaming of pastoral landscapes and personal idylls, in which individual heroics became transformative gestures. Getting back to nature and dropping out of society wasn’t some abrupt worldwide Zeitgeist that erupted in 1967: Lord Byron could easily be categorized as a hippie. For that matter, one could add to the list Percy Shelly, Henry David Thoreau, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Walt Whitman was a complete hippie, for sure. But why stop there? There’s certainly one obvious candidate for Original Hippie. Maybe some of you indie-rockers have heard of the New Testament. You know, it’s in a book, called the Bible...."

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"GUITAR TRIO IS MY LIFE!" by Jeff Hunt

"Sound goes low, deep to the core of the Earth. It goes high, too: higher than we can tolerate, then higher than we can hear, then higher than any living creature can hear. It goes higher and higher and higher still, until it rains down as sunlight and collects in pools as all the colors of the spectrum. Feel lucky? Reach out and grab just enough to make a single chord. Who knows? It might even be enough for a song."

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Personal Panopticons by Jeff Hunt

"...Again, the specific matter of guilt or innocence is – or should be, in an optimal, rosy-hued world – a matter for the courts. But as incendiary epithets like “cop killer” are lobbed rather than dispassionate verdicts, the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal merits close and objective consideration. This nation’s ethical posture and moral equity continue to sag and devaluate beneath the weight of Guantanamo Bay, the dodging of the Geneva Convention, state-sanctioned disregard for habeas corpus, and general, blithe indifference as breathing human beings are whisked away and deposited in concrete sarcophaguses in Florence, Colorado. While we shuffle collectively through the corridors of our own, digitized Panopticons, poking obliviously at our iPhones in slow-zombie mode, it’s worth stopping for a moment of lucidity. ...."

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A Pigment of the Imagination by Jeff Hunt

"...These ideas gripped Dubuffet, and dragged him toward a sphere of obsessive creativity that was harrowing in its rigorous isolation and self-contained fecundity. He delved deep into the creative compulsions of those deemed “outside” of society, individuals whose imprisonment and/or madness precluded any serious consideration of their self expression, people for whom society—high, low, or otherwise—was no more accessible than the surface of the moon. Within the cells of prisoners, the minds of psychotics, and through the eyes of the mentally ill, Jean Dubuffet found the purity and persistence of vision for which he yearned..."

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Welcome Back My Friends to the Boat Show That Never Ends by Jeff Hunt

"It entered our dimension through some appalling portal in 1968, an unspeakable Cuthulian horror that's never, ever going to leave. It lives deep in the ocean, and waits for the humans to summon it via ritual invocation at the RV and Boat Show."

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Tony Conrad Movie at Volksbühne, Berlin by Table of the Elements

When he fled Harvard in 1961, contrarian Tony Conrad escaped into the restricted ruins of post-war East Berlin. Now he returns, via Tyler Hubby’s celebratory opus, Tony Conrad: Completely in the Present. The host is Volksbühne, Germany’s most iconic theater. Is Tony rolling in his grave? We like to think he’s rolling in the aisles.

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"He's Our Shortstop" by Jeff Hunt

First Base: Who
Second Base: What
Third base: I Don't Know
Left field: Why
Center field: Because
Pitcher: Tomorrow
Catcher: Today

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Death by Numbers ("Come in Number 51, Your Time is Up") by Jeff Hunt

“If you guys are really us, what number are we thinking of…?”
— Theodore “Ted” Logan, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

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Charles Foster Kane In the Jurassic Sunset by Jeff Hunt

"...It’s difficult to fathom today. The maturation of rock ‘n’ roll happened with immeasurable velocity. It was a subatomic chain reaction. In the blink of a mind’s eye, music exploded from Elvis 45s to Sgt. Pepper’s; from “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window” to “Interstellar Overdrive.” One moment there was just the 45 RPM disk in a plain paper sleeve, dutifully waiting to inseminate a malt-shop jukebox; then there were phonograph albums, issued strictly as knock-off asides and cash-in novelties; and then, in a mushroom cloud of self-awareness and self-realization and self-actualization and self-indulgence, the album was The Album, the means to the end, The Alpha and The Omega of Rock. And they saw that the LP jacket and its inner sleeve were naked, and the Children of Rock were ashamed...."

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Daguerreotypes of the Living Dead by Jeff Hunt

The wildly versatile multi-media artist Bradly Brown defies expectations, and he does so in perverse, science-fictitious splendor. I’m biased, as he’s not only my creative collaborator but my friend, but this gaunt Texan has the real goods at the farthest flung trading posts: expertly crafted wampum that cloaks value in vivid, secretive layers. His intuitive design skills alone merit high praise; in an era in which graphic artists often succumb to Novocaine levels of digital numbness, Bradly’s work pounces out of two-dimensional confines. If you have a deft sensibility, you can see it breathe and pulsate. Spirits of silver nitrate float; dead voices carry; bestial dystopia beckons.

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Astride a Sound by Jeff Hunt

"Paul Duncan hails from the edge of the Piney Woods region of East Texas, where that state begins its lazy, humid segue into Louisiana. He lives in the sub- and pan-cultural particle accelerator that is New York City. And as a singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, he is one of the most versatile and forward-thinking talents you're likely to encounter."

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Not Everything That Rises Must Also Converge by Jeff Hunt

“A lot of new music boasts of a good time, but it ends up being the same caffeinated sugar water in a fancy plastic bottle, completely lacking in nutrients, life, and anything that’s good for you. Peg Simone’s new music begins from pure places like poetry, the spoken word, the human breath, feedback, the mystical side of folk and blues, and the effect is icy water coming off the mountain, tasting of soil, rock and organic matter; you want to drink it and let it drip down your neck.”
Black Francis (The Pixies)

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